


Intentional {On Hiatus}

by acgaeile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, HP: EWE, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, POV Multiple, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Reconciliation, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acgaeile/pseuds/acgaeile
Summary: "For most, reconciliation will not happen as a part of a normal course of events. It has to be intentional."- Wayne GordonA story of reconciliation between the past, the present, and the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Important Notice: This work has officially been abandoned! Maybe I will get the motivation to finish it up one day but I have no plans to do so in the near future!
> 
>  
> 
> This story will feature flashbacks of rape and violence. Please be warned before reading. 
> 
> The wizarding world and the characters depicted belong exclusively to JK Rowling.  
> I'm simply a fan having way too much fun with my favorite set of boys.

 

**Draco**   
  


“Draco, my love, do you wish to make us late?” Daphne spoke hurriedly in his ear before she rushed about the room. It’s not as if he didn’t know they may be late to this particular meeting; he simply didn’t care. He’d rather keep his thoughts on the particularly enticing dream where strong hands gripped his waist and hot breath tickled his neck.

“DRACO!” Daphne shouted abruptly removing him from his fantasy. “Come on, love,” She said throwing him a smile. “Merlin’s beard! I’m up, alright?” Clearly the night of booze and lack-luster sex hadn’t done anything to slow her down this morning; Draco thought to himself as he made his way to the bathroom. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy sex with Daphne. It was fairly enjoyable; more so with his eyes closed after 4 shots. He’d never admit that aloud though, of course. This was his fiancée and in just six short months, she’d be his wife. He groaned inwardly. He couldn’t help but feel that one shouldn’t have these feelings, or there lack of, for the person they were marrying. In fact, he knew they shouldn’t. Not that musing about it did anything to detour the growing dread that had rooted itself in the pit of his stomach. The future sounded far less appealing as the days went on.

They’d been betrothed since the ripe age of 4. The Greengrass’ had been all too glad to offer their daughter to such a dignified family of pure bloods. He’d been told his duty to his family from the moment he’d learned to stand- the rot about inheritance and his need for an heir. It was too much to hope for that the war would affect the proceedings. Old Lucius could spin such a war hero’s tale that even the entire Wizengamot could forgive his previous infractions. He figured the obscene amount of gallons thrown at them didn’t hurt either. Still Draco was under no obligation to befriend her; he’d simply figured it’d be easier to not marry a complete stranger. Where he slipped up was allowing her to feel for him. This was a business arrangement, a farce. He had figured she’d known that but one drunken night had lead to others and she was positively smitten. He could still hear Pansy moaning about what a daft cow he’d been forced to wed. “Honestly darling, one would think she evolved from Athena’s shite” Athena being Pansy’s rather lumpish eagle owl. Thinking of Pans always pained him. He’d lost both her and Blaise in the final battle, leaving wounds on him that time would never heal.

After a quick shower and groom, they locked arms and apparated to the garden of Malfoy Manor. He’d rarely appear this thrown together in front of his parents but the should-have-been lethal amount of alcohol he consumed last night seemed to smooth that worry over; the impending headache squashing all guilt. It’s not like he’d planned on being pissed enough to actually sleep at Daphne’s after they fucked. It was just that Ogden’s Finest always did have a way of putting him on his ass.

“Oh Draco! So lovely to see you, dear!” Mrs. Greengrass mumbled rushing over to kiss his cheek. She was rather affectionate which always struck him as odd. Pure blood families tended to be cold. He was always unsure of just how to take her, thus he never let his guard down. Though, it was clear where Daphne got her proclivity to expressing amicable emotions.

His eyes landed directly on the piercingly similar grey eyes as he approached.  
“Draco” Lucius Malfoy said coolly. “Father” he countered back as he nodded endearingly to his mother. By the time he sat, Daphne was already chatting cheerfully to both their mothers about wedding details he scarcely cared about. A crack captured his attention away as Frilly, their house elf, arrived with the tea. She bowed gracefully and with another crack, disappeared. Sipping his tea, Draco looked up to his father seemingly peering in to the depths of his soul. It was, quite frankly, unnerving. One could argue that Lucius looked as put out to be here as he was; not all joy was lost today then.

“Draco! Did you hear me? I was telling mother we decided against the orchids.” Daphne said, gracefully laying her hand atop his on the table. “Mmm” he said smiling to Greengrass. He was biting back the repulsion Daphne’s touch had sent through his body. In private he could close his eyes when she rode him or simply feign ill so she’d stay distant. In public there was little he could do other than swallow the vile that had risen and pretend. Thankfully his staunch mannerism never failed him and his discomfort was not noticed. The icy stare of his father was enough to undo him without the touch of his fiancée to push him over the edge. The afternoon passed in a blur of small talk that Draco was only semi-present for with the exception of well-placed nod when necessary. With brisk farewells and a kiss to his mother’s cheek, he disapparated. Much to his pleasure, Daphne had opted to bring her mother instead of him for the cake tastings.

He had apparated to the alley lining his private workshop. He’d told no one about the workshop or his secret hobby he’d developed during his last year at Hogwarts. Not that he had anyone to tell; with Pansy and Blaise gone he had no one. Crabbe and Goyle were the only other friends he’d had and they were convicted Death Eaters currently serving a minimum of 15 years in Azkaban. His hobby began as an escape from the sneers of his fellow classmates. He was thankful to be allowed back to complete his N.E.W.T.S but being a redeemed Death Eater hadn’t done him any favors. He was one of only three Slytherin’s to return for 8th year and Nott and Bulstrode would rather kiss a Dementor than be around him willingly. He didn’t even have the irritating presence of Greengrass to stave off the isolation. Professor Snape, begrudgingly, took him under his wing. It was pity but pity was better than nothing. He learned the ins and outs of potion making whenever he was allowed time. He spent every lonely minute engrossed in potion theory. Experimenting became his reprieve from crushing weight of night terrors and hateful glares. It became so much more than simply brewing, it became his will to go on. These experiments turned in to successes and they most certainly weren’t the flu tonics taught in class. These were potions that’d truly make a difference or so Draco told himself. They’d either do that or land him in Azkaban for not quite making the Ministry approved potions list.

As it happened, anonymity wasn’t the easiest thing to come by as a Malfoy post war. So when he was able to secure this space, despite his name, and complete privacy, it was a deal he’d have been barmy to refuse. Leaving Hogwarts meant leaving the unoccupied classroom where he’d spent his time. Draco could hardly stand to walk those haunted halls of his childhood home anymore either. It was tainted with the horrors of war. Had he even been able to, he’d still be subjected to little privacy. Frilly may have been pledged to Draco but the other house elves served Lucius; they’d be quick to alert their master if something seemed amiss. No, he had to secure his own place that wouldn’t fall under the attentions of undesired company. The search for a place was more difficult than he felt it should be. It hadn’t mattered that his family was essential in the fall of the Dark Lord. What mattered to the public was that the Malfoy family had allied themselves with the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at all. The information passed from the Malfoy family to the Order of the Phoenix allowed Potter to find and destroy each piece of the Dark Lord’s soul. You’d think that’d count for something even if his father only went along when the Dark Lord had set his sights on his own mother; not the public was aware of that. It had been an accepted fact that the Dark Lord regularly bedded his Aunt Bella. The problem arose when that wasn’t enough for the Dark Lord. He needed Draco’s mother too. Somehow this was the breaking point for his father. Draco often wondered if he’d done it out of love or selfishness. After all, he was fine with Draco being forced to accept the mark. He hadn’t even batted an eyelash as he was offered up to McNair as play thing. Thinking of the way his father did nothing more than curtly nod at this request made him nauseous. No, it was the Dark Lord’s claim to his mother, Narcissa, that his father couldn’t abide by. While it turned the tide of the war, it couldn’t erase the feel of McNair’s dirt-encrusted nails being raked down his back. It’d never take away the fear of not even being safe in one’s own bedroom. And it has yet to quell the nightmares.

 

These thoughts brought him back to the nights when he could sleep, like last night, when his dreams were filled with soft touches and low moans. The variation of Dreamless sleep he’d be working on was on its way to completion. He smiled to himself as he unlocked the door to the workshop. The general public may still distrust the Malfoy name but in here they couldn’t bother him. It wasn’t much but it was the only place Draco felt truly himself. His shop was located on the outskirts of Muggle London. The outside was equipped with a permanent glamor keeping nosey pedestrians from entering or self-righteous fathers from stumbling upon it. He deposited his suit jacket on the rickety chair in the corner and went to work. The workshop wasn’t something to write home about. It had a beat-up island in the center, hard wood floors, and some mismatched furniture. Draco thought it was a far cry from the elegance of the manor but to him it was perfect.

He’d been scratching away on his parchment about where he went wrong in another test batch when he looked up to see none other than his gracious landlord.

“Potter, may I help you? I believe in our agreement I’d mentioned something about leaving me alone?” Draco huffed, looing up and putting down his quill.

Potter’s ad in the Daily Prophet caught his eye during his search for a brewing workshop and he had sought him out for the space. He hadn’t known it was the savior’s advert until he met with him, of course. He’d have never taken interest had he been privy to that information beforehand. When Draco had arrived for their meeting, he took one look at him and turned around only to be stopped by Potter saying “Lets just give it a go, yeah? You need a space and I have one available.” An audible sigh, too many awkward silences, a quick negotiation, 2 cups of tea, and a signature later - Draco now rented the space under Potter’s apartment.

“You should probably pay a bit more attention to your work.” Potter said nodding towards the cauldron currently brewing over to his left. “At least while you’re doing things over an open flame under where I live.” He looked to Potter to see him and his lopsided grin leaning against the doorframe. Potter had taken to turning up every once in a while. He wasn’t even quite sure why but the intrusions had become part of a tentative acquaintanceship. They never really talked and Potter mainly just said Hullo before departing again.

“Certainly you have more important things to do than to patronize your loyal tenant, Potter.” Draco said while sending an extinguishing charm over to the burner.

“Nothing that important actually.” Potter’s eyes met Draco’s with a warm intensity making him squirm under the attention. He’d hex his bollocks off before he’d admit to himself that Potter still had some sort of power over him. I suppose you can’t mutually stalk someone as adolescences without some lingering affects.

“I was actually thinking we could get a drink?” Potter said with a light shrug; that stupid smile still on his face. Draco looked at him questioningly unsure as to what sort of game Potter was playing at. Sure, they’d been courteous but they’ve never actually conversed. Draco was unsure whether they actually should. They’d managed a truce upon his renting of Potter’s space but it was a far cry having a heart to heart with the Savior of the Wizarding World.

“Why?” Draco said raising a blonde eyebrow and giving a pointed look at the Chosen One. Potter, the smirk falling from his face, ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“You looked like someone had stolen all your biscuits when I walked in. I figured you might like a change of scenery is all” Potter said with a hint of what Draco assumed was amusement behind his words.

Draco stared at him, as though Potter had finally lost what was left of his sanity. Did he forget to whom he was speaking? He was Potter’s archenemy in school, the one that the prat sorely rejected upon meeting. Did their strange landlord/tenant relationship morph without letting Draco know first? He was gobsmacked to be quite honest.

“Like someone had stolen all my biscuits…” he muttered to himself before actually replying; their shared past playing in slideshow fashion through his mind.

“Did I miss the part where we were suddenly mates? Do you remember who I am? You’re Harry Potter, the golden boy of the Wizarding World. You don’t ask ex-Death Eaters out for a pint!” Draco felt as though he’d fallen in to some parallel universe. Surely that’s the only logical conclusion for their current situation.

Potter gazed at him for what felt like an eternity before speaking again. The exasperation in his voice was evident when he finally said something; starling Draco out of his temporary paralysis.

Casting his eyes down and scratching the back of his neck, Potter continued  
“Look Malfoy, I know the history between us is... er, unpleasant? I would like to change that, I think?” Potter paused like he was unsure of what to say next. “The wars won thanks mostly to your family and I’m tired of fighting. Just come out for a drink, yeah? We can let the past stay in the past. Start fresh, ya know?” He walked slowly towards Draco, although he could have run for all Draco knew, he was too shocked to focus. Potter smiled at him and extended his hand, “I’m Harry Potter, nice to meet you”

When Draco didn’t reply right away, Potter’s smile faltered and for some reason that was strangely reassuring, reassuring enough that Draco reached out and grasped Potter’s hand. The war is over, thank fuck, and hadn’t this been what he’d wanted? Eleven-year-old Draco was falling arse over tit inside him, his juvenile dream of being mates with Potter finally sounding plausible. He hadn’t been out with anyone in a very long time. Hell, the only conversations he had with someone other than himself were with Daphne. That doesn’t bode well for ones sanity. Why shouldn’t he take the peace he’d just been offered? Even it came like a bludger being pelted at him from outer space.

Draco looked up and attempted what he hoped was a friendly smile, “Alright, Potter. Where did you have in mind?” Potter’s mouth fell open like he’d seen McGonagall in her skivvies. “Sorry, I didn’t misunderstand, did I?” Draco said questioningly quickly pulling his hand away. He was trying to keep his face neutral but his brows furrowed anyway.

Potter picked his jaw up from the floor, shook his head, and appeared to gather himself. “I thought it’d be harder is all.” Potter said after a century and a half.

“Oh it definitely could be if you want” Draco said smirking. He couldn’t help but snicker a bit to himself at the floored reaction he’d elicited from his old rival. Potter’s eyebrows almost reached his forehead as he cleared his throat. Too bad for Potter that if he was going to start a friendship with Draco, he’d have to jolly well remove the broomstick from his arse.  
“Let me grab my jacket.” Draco questioned heading for the chair in the corner. He was on the last button and starting to look up, when Potter grabbed his arm and, without warning, apparated the both of them away.

His jovial mood was the only thing keeping Potter from a sure-to-be well executed session of bitching on why he’d prefer not to have almost left an arm back at the shop. The mad brute could give a warning before almost splinching a man; especially a man he’d just asked for a cease-fire. Deciding whatever this was with Potter was more important than his complaints; he took in the surroundings. They had arrived in front of what appeared to Draco as a shack. Or what Draco assumed was shack. The only other shack he’d ever been to was located in Hogsmeade and compared to this pile of weathered wood, the Shrieking Shack was a bloody palace.

“Lovely place, do you bring all your ex-enemies here?” he said noticing the other man still had a rather tight grip on his arm. Darting his eyes over up to the reddening face beside him, Potter let go and opened the pub door.

* * *

 

**Harry**

  
-Earlier that day-

“You’re doing that thing again, mate.” Ron said still spooning peanut butter from the jar in the kitchen of their shared flat.

“What ‘thing’ is that?” Harry said crossing his arms over his chest and giving Ron a measuring look.

“The Malfoy thing, Harry. The one where you watch the git and agonize over what he’s up too.” Ron mumbled through a full mouth of peanut butter.

Just because Harry knew this was happening didn’t mean he was going to own up to it. They’d been out of school for a year now. It was perfectly natural to be curious about a schoolmate who had hated from the first day you met. It was even more natural to be curious about the bloke when they were renting the space under your flat. It’d been a shock to open an owl from Malfoy. In fact, he had Ron read it over just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Harry hadn’t thought much about the blond since they left school. He avoided the Daily Prophet so if there was news there, he didn’t know it. There were only so many articles about his life that he could stomach from that rot.

It had taken some convincing to get Malfoy to go through with the deal and ever since he did, Harry could think of nothing else. He’d had Malfoy sign a contract saying he’d not run off to tell the world where Harry lived. He’d managed to get Draco Malfoy to swear to secrecy for him, Harry Potter. Surely that meant something, right? Ron was slowly getting frustrated hearing about him but it’s not like Harry had anyone else to whinge too. He and Ron had decided against going back to Hogwarts for their 8TH year much to Hermione’s chagrin. They had decided to take up Kingsley’s offer to become Aurors for the MLE. It took a whole 3 months before they both dropped out of training and started working at George’s shop. They were both too tired of bloodshed. So when George called for help, they were only too glad to join him. Harry needed more laughs in his life and what better way than to make a living at a joke shop?  
When Hermione finished her N.E.W.T.S she went about doing an internship for the Australian branch of EAMB - Equality of All Magical Beings. It was a right pain not her having around especially in times of stress involving the pointy-faced prick downstairs. Thank merlin for international Floo calls. If Ron had to listen to him go on about Malfoy, Harry could be assured that’d he heard as much about how much he missed ‘Mione. Ron had to do everything but drag her to the internship himself. They spent the months directly after the war searching for her parents. Sometimes, he thinks, it’d have been easier if they’d never been found. She’d tried every thing and had done more research than even Harry thought Hermione was capable of to no avail. There is only so much magic can help after a well-done Obliviate. Lockhart could attest to that straight from the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungos. In an effort to prevent his girlfriend from self-destructing, Ron had made her promise to take the internship. Sometimes things still felt empty for all of them but if nothing else at least they knew they had each other.

Their other friends moved on with their lives too and while he had the occasional pub night with Neville, Ron was really the only person he talked too. Seamus and Dean fucked off without so much of a 'goodbye'. Fat load of good it is having friends you can't ever see. He couldn't blame them for wanting to put the past behind them, he supposed. It just didn't stop the feeling of abandonment from sneaking up and promptly pissing all over him. On the rare occasion that George would actually talk to them, Harry couldn’t find it in him to steer the conversation. Fred’s death still haunted him the most.

“’arry you listenin’ to me?” said Ron breaking Harry from his train of thought.

“Sorry, what?” he said watching Ron close the peanut butter lid and face him.  
Ron stared at Harry before chucking the empty PB jar in the bin, missing with a whispered 'bugger' before continuing,“I said, go ask him out for drink, mate” Ron Accioed the jar to him for another go at the waste bin like he hadn't just offered up some barmy advice to him.

“Are you mental? What am I suppose to do exactly? Walk in there and just ask my former enemy out to the pub?” He chimed in incredulously and all Ron did was grunt something that had ‘you’ and ‘wanker’ involved. He wasn't sure whether it was directed at him or the offending plastic jar his friend was eyeing.

“If you want to shag him, mate, you have to start with something.” Said Ron shrugging before standing up, chunking the jar in the bin, and heading to his room, leaving Harry to stare wide eyed after him. His sexuality was something he didn’t discuss - even with Ron. If it got out it would mean he’d be headline news. “Potter the Poofter” in huge bold letters. He could hear Skeeter’s triumphant squeal already. Couldn’t they move on from him? Let him live in some peace and goddamn quiet? Hadn’t he earned at least that much? Harry couldn’t even remember the last time he was able to go somewhere without a glamour without being grabbed at followed by an article in the Prophet the next day. “Chosen One Snubs Grateful War Survivor” That’s what the last one said. What loads of rubbish the pilocks at the Prophet are willing to publish. Not that Ron would ever say anything against him especially to the Prophet. He trusted Ron more than he trusted himself, if he was honest. It’s just that admitting that he might maybe fancy blokes to himself equated to screaming it to the world - never mind how barking it sounded. In any case, it’s not like he ever really had time to explore what he may or may not like. The rushed touches with Gin were all he had to go on and it was clear they did nothing for him. Not that they had done the trick for Gin either since she began traveling with Luna immediately after breaking things off with him. Besides, he didn’t want to shag Malfoy. He was just curious, a big healthy dose of curious. There was no harm in in that was there?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will get more in-depth in the coming chapter and will feature more triggering things. Mentions of past rape and sex will come up more than once and in explicit detail. Please be warned- this chapter is rather light but not all of them will be. My apologies in the delay for this chapter. I hope I get them up quicker in the future.
> 
> -The characters and the Wizarding World do not belong to me and I make zero profit off writing about two of my favorite boys.

 

**Harry**

Harry had finally done it; the it being a conversation with his formal rival. If Ron was going to insist he was doing that ‘thing’ then he might as well do it. He’d even taken the prat’s advice and invited him out. The real shock was Malfoy actually agreeing to go. Harry had run through the scenario outcomes almost a hundred times before heading downstairs. This wasn’t one he practiced and he had absolutely idea what to say when Malfoy had said yes. He’d seen him being told to bugger off. Surely he would be told where to shove the olive brand he was offering but this was, for lack of a better word, unexpected. This was evident in the awkward tension at their table. Malfoy was maybe even flirting with him, FLIRTING. Not that Harry was affected; he hadn’t meant this as a date. It was just a drink with someone whom he had an unbelievable amount of history with. Things in the shop had been easy looking back on it. This was like flying without a broom, absolutely terrifying.

He hadn’t known how Malfoy would react to being carted to a Muggle pub. In all honestly, it was the first place Harry thought of that he wouldn’t need glamour. He had let his nerves do the apparting for him too. He was surprised he wasn’t the victim of a hex after dragging Malfoy along like a sack of potatoes.

 “So, um, Malfoy…” He said a bit shakily, gripping his glass. He wasn’t even sure how to continue at this point. He was just going to have to dive in like he was chasing the snitch. “What have you been working on? You know, in the cauldron, the uh one that almost burnt down my flat.”

 Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not sure that is any of your business, Potter.” Malfoy continued to stare at him as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. As far as Harry was concerned, no one should be able to strike the fear of god in to someone while drinking shite beer in a dingy pub. Yet there he was, defying all logic, and making him wish he’d never listed to Ron’s suggestion.

 Harry was unsure if he’d ever remember how to form words until they started pouring out before he thought it. “I mean yeah, you’re right, it’s not, is it, any of my business that is because it’s yours. Your business that you’re doing….” He trailed off when he was interrupted by an obnoxious laugh from across the table.

 Malfoy’s eyes were almost tearing up and the corners crinkled. Harry watched as he used his finger to wipe the impending tear. “Potter, did you forgo formal training when you were young? Is that why you inherently incapable of civil conversation?” Harry was unsure what to say to that. He thought he was quite capable of talking when it involved anyone other than the git in front of him.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to attack you. It’s been a while and... and I was curious as to what you’ve been up to, I guess?” he said without looking up. Laying out a rental agreement with him hadn’t been nearly as stressful.

“I’m keeping myself in line, if that is what you’re asking.” Draco said flatly taking a drink, his eyes losing the spark of good humor they held before. How’d he manage to make drinking a pint look posh? Sometimes Harry almost missed his mouth.

“NO! I mean, no, that’s not what I meant! Um, I just mean how’s life?” Harry said quickly, a flush rising from his neck and coloring his cheeks.

“Life, I suppose, is fine.” Said Malfoy. He didn’t add anymore which left Harry feeling out of sorts. Harry took a sip of his beer and nodded. This was not going exactly how he’d planned. When did anything ever when Malfoy was involved though? Not sure how to continue, he busied himself by folding the ends of the cocktail napkin on the table.

“And you, Potter? What has the Chosen One been doing in his free time? The lady Weasel, I presume?” Malfoy said smirking. He locked eyes with Harry’s causing the next thing out of his mouth to amount to little more than jibberish.

“whatnoumnoimeannoshes..uh…” Harry stopped and scratched the back of his neck. He was fully flushed now and being coherent was not coming easily. Shaking his head, he squeaked out a quiet ‘no’ and chugged the rest of his beer. He nodded towards their glasses before grabbing them and heading to the bar for refills. What in the fuck was wrong with him? He’d been the one to initiate this and he couldn’t even talk without getting flustered. Drinks in hand, Harry headed back to the table to smug Malfoy eyeing him with amusement.

“Care to elaborate or am I to assume I know what you said?” Malfoy said taking his glass. His fingers lightly grazing Harry’s, sending a small shudder that should NOT even be possible with contact so small. 

“Sorry, uh Gin and I split before the end of term last year, so no.” Harry was proud to have gotten that all out in one go if he was being honest with himself. He figured it’d be wise to leave out the reasoning. Malfoy may have agreed to keep his address secret but that didn’t extend to outing him to the public. He wasn’t even sure if Mrs. Weasley knew that Luna and Gin were more than friends.

Before he could stop himself, he let the curiosity get the better of him and asked, “Are you seeing anyone?” It was a simple question and the answer to it felt shouldn’t matter to him as much as it did.

“As it happens I am to be married to Daphne Greengrass in the near future.” Said Malfoy, his eyes cast down in to his pint. The lurch his stomach gave at that almost made him sick. The small sigh he heard from the blond across the table though was barely audible but gave Harry just a small flicker of hope. Not that he needed hope because he wasn’t actually h _oping_ for anything. Still, it was enough to give him the impression that Malfoy might not be as enthused about his arrangements as voice initially implied. Harry wasn’t sure what to do with that other than to file it away for later analyzing.

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow as though he hadn’t just dropped a bomb “I’m surprised you don’t already know. The Greengrass’ have been overzealous with the press about the union.” It was then that Harry realized he’d not replied and had been staring for far too long.

And as usual, he was the last to know things thanks to his disgust with the Prophet, “I don’t read the Prophet or really anything. Unless it was front-page news in Qudditch Weekly, I would’ve missed it.” He chuckled hoping it came out as light as he was hoping.

Malfoy chuckled back with a grin on his face, “Honestly Potter, are you even aware that you turned your nose up at an adoring fan? I thought Saint Potter would relish in the attention.” Normally this would send him in to one of what Hermione had dubbed his “5th year fits,” but hearing the light hearted way the man in front of him was talking had made it hard to get mad. The sick feeling in his stomach was still there but somehow things were okay for the moment.

Conversation flowed more freely after that. They discussed nothing heavy and had a rather heated argument about the last Puddlemore United loss. Harry could have been having a pint with Ron because of how natural it felt. A part of him wondered briefly about how things might have been had he allowed the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin. Time passed quickly with many more pints than Harry normally drank on a weekday. He couldn’t bother to be put out about it though. He hadn’t even noticed until they made their way towards to apparition point and he could hardly stand straight. The last things he remembered thinking about were how firm Malfoy’s grip was when he fell in to him and how nice the man’s pale, blond hair smelt.

 

* * *

 

**Draco**

 

He had noticed how well Potter had filled out since their Hogwarts’s days. He’d seen him near enough that he had almost memorized the way his lean muscles moved. The royal blue sweater he sported today was loose enough to leave quite a bit to Draco’s imagination though. The little bit he’d had to imagine slowly being replaced with reality as he gripped the waist of a pissed off his ass Harry Potter.

“Potter, can you understand me?” Draco had been saying this for the past 5 minutes with little feed back in return. The brute hadn’t even acknowledged it. He was too busy smelling Draco’s hair. Who did that? Honestly! Potter’s head rolled to the side and he eyed Draco through half-lidded eyes with a smile playing at his lips.

“Have you always been so pretty?” Potter spoke lazily like he had all the time in the world. He must have forgotten that he was only standing straight thanks to Draco. With one big, contented sigh Potter fucked right off to sleep in his arms.

Draco was trying to be upset but he had to admit that a sleeping Potter was adorable, not that he’d ever let anyone know he thought that. He brought his other hand around to Potter’s waist and promptly apparated them back to the shop. He’d never actually been upstairs to where Potter lived but he didn’t feel right just leaving him on the floor. He shook Potter gently trying to wake him but all he got in return was a half smile. Rolling his eyes, he picked Potter up and carried him up the stairs. He didn’t bother knocking and instead just opened the door, which was already unlocked. He’d be having some words with the Chosen One about not locking his doors. Anyone could just walk right in if they knew it was here. For someone who put so much effort in to hiding his flat, you’d think he’d take better care.

Draco looked around at the tiny room he’d walked in to. It was cozy. There was a beat up sofa next to a fireplace. The mantle above was covered in pictures of red-haired Weasels and strange little trinkets. There were two huge piles of books shoved in the corner and a worn green rug underneath a red, or what was once red, chair across from the sofa. It was nothing like he’d pictured Potter’s place to be. He had no idea where Potter’s room might be so he settled for the sofa. He placed him as gently as he could on it before taking off his shoes or what were supposed to be shoes. God, Potter had no sense of good taste. He grabbed a soft throw from the chair and draped it over the sleeping Savior. Without even thinking about it, he’d leaned in and started tucking Potter in. Before he realized what he was doing, Potter’s eyed fluttered open and his lips rose in a small smile. His cheeks immediately redden when it hit him that he’d just be caught tucking the other man in. Unsure what to do, he froze in place staring at the emerald abyss that was apparently Potter’s eyes. Potter sat up enough to come face to face with Draco. He leaned in a pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Draco’s mouth before laying back down, closing his eyes, and mumbling “G’night, Draco”; completely oblivious to the affect he’d just had on the other man. Did Potter just kiss him? Did he just call him Draco? What the fuck? Before he decided to go downstairs and brew a Sober Up Potion to shove down Potter’s throat so he could demand answers, he apparated back to his flat.

In an effort to distance himself from Lucius Malfoy and the hollowed halls of Malfoy Manor, he had found a new place to live. While his father forbade the house elves to assist there out of anger, he was rather quite proud of the home he’d made here. He would normally apparate to the Manor to take meals, usually by his mother’s request. Frilly still came to his aid when it came to cleaning but she was no cook. He’d never have learned the joys of take-out otherwise. He could imagine the look of disgust on his father’s face if he knew his son was engaging in something so very Muggle. Once the marriage went through, he’d have to lose what he'd done here. There'd be no more unlimited time to brew, take-out, or peace. He’d have to become the perfect Pure Blood Malfoy once he spoke those vows. It was the Heir’s responsibility no matter how distasteful he felt it was. This place along with this shop was his solace, the only things that belonged to just him – Draco; not the Malfoy name. He wanted to curse his existence at times because he could never have what he truly wanted. Daphne sometimes tried to force the location of his dwelling out whenever he was around her but he’d placed it under a Fidelius Charm just to be sure neither she nor anyone else ever could. Frilly was the only other living being he’d ever allow. This was Draco's and until he had to give it up, it'd remain just his.

After checking the cupboards for something edible, he sighed, and decided just going to bed instead. He wasn’t hungry enough to bother. He chucked having Frilly do shopping tomorrow on his mental to-do list. Shucking his clothes, he went to shower. The hot water poured over him as he thought of the way Potter had felt in his arms. The way his breath had tickled his neck when the other man stuck his face in to his hair sent a spark straight to his groin. His lips still tingled from the soft lips that touched part of them. He found himself thinking of emerald green eyes as he stroked himself, coming to the conjured image of those soft lips wrapped around his cock. He cleaned himself and headed to bed. The soft silk sheets felt incredible on his skin as fell asleep thinking about the raven-haired man he’d tucked in earlier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: I mentioned before that this story would include scenes of violence and rape. Please be aware that this chapter will bring some of that in to focus. 
> 
> I apologize for the extremely late chapter. It has been a whirlwind of a month. My Macbook decided to pop the mouse pad out for no good reason as well. So it's been a pain to write. I surely hope the next installments won't be so far apart.

** Draco **

_The grunt of “Incarcerous” ripped him from the tendrils fitful sleep he’d been managing. “Moan nice and loud for me, pet.” McNair whispered, licking the shell of his ear before sheathing himself in Draco. The pain, all consuming, exploded like a Reducto to his skull. Stifling a whimper, he focused on the burn of the ropes binding his wrists. The dull ache of them distracting from the sensation of being split open from the inside with every thrust._

_The blood dripping from re-opened scratches upon his back seemingly intermingling with the dirt encrusted nails of the man – polluting his body. He could feel it flowing through him, leaving nothing but bile in his throat. A calloused hand snaked its way around his throat, leaving him gasping for air, the pull of darkness on the horizon being yanked away with the moving up to grab his hair. “Next time,‘m gonna bring a friend. You’d like tha’ wouldn’t ya?” the man grunted in his ear._

_A cooper taste filled his mouth as his teeth ripped through his bottom lip. He felt the man’s grip on his hip tightened, the warm liquid filling him. With one last push, he pulled himself from Draco and placed a small kiss to the top of his head before leaving as quickly as he came. Draco curled in on himself, his hands still tied, and sobbed. The dam of reliance finally crumbling, exposing him as the weak man he already knew he was._

Draco awaked to the darkness of his bedroom. He attempted to blink back the tears that’d already started falling. He clutched his stomach, retching over the side of the bed– his wails shattering the calm façade of night.

* * *

 

** Harry **

It’d been almost a fortnight since he’d seen Malfoy. The space under his flat having been eerily vacant since he’d asked Malfoy out for a pint. Nervousness had wrecked him as he recounted his actions. The blissful haze of drunkenness not having been enough to squash his memories. He’d woken the next morning feeling rather pleasant after having drunk so much just to have the reality of why he was sleeping on his couch crash over him. He’d not only told Malfoy how pretty he’d been, He’d KISSED HIM. The more he thought about, the more mortified he became. Unsure of what to do, he’d avoided the workspace like his life depended on it. His eagerness to avoid confrontation halted when Ron dropped the news that he'd not seen Malfoy in a while.

“Reckon you fucked up that one, mate” was all the assurance his best friend had offered him when he noticed Harry's panicked expression, clearly assuming Harry'd been the cause. He didn’t offer any details and Ron didn’t push for them. Times like these called for Hermione, with her still busy in Australia he’d been left to sort through his own thoughts. Needless to say, he was going bloody mental. George took to sending him home earlier claiming he didn’t need the extra hands at the moment. Harry knew he was nothing more than a waste of space but having the monotony of routine helped a bit. Instead of flooing back to the flat, he’d taken to apparating, hoping a glimpse of blond hair would catch his eye before the climb up. He’d heard nothing about Malfoy’s whereabouts or why he’d suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth. His frustration led to the unthinkable, he pursued Ron’s copies of The Prophet from the last year, soaking in every detail he could like the oxygen he needed to breathe. He couldn’t contain the flip of his stomach seeing the picture of Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass hand in hand announcing their engagement. The image burned itself in to his mind. The cool way he lightly grasped her small hand in the picture, the half smile he doted on her all made him feel sick. The Malfoy in the picture was wearing fitted robes accentuating his waist. The sight left his mouth dry and his trousers a bit tight. He noticed the edges of Malfoy’s pointy face that he'd once been revolted by now reminded him of the carefully chiseled angles of the carved marble of statues he'd seen once at a museum.

Malfoy had hardly crossed his mind before the inquiry to rent the space downstairs and now he was all Harry could think about; that and the tingle of his lips where they had grazed Malfoy's. He’d woken almost every night since to sticky pants and cooled sweat on his pillow. To not much avail, he’d tried to keep his growing fascination with Malfoy quiet. He’d even tried stuffing the month old Prophet that he’d nicked from Ron’s room underneath his shirt as the ginger man came through the Floo earning him a deep sigh and a “I knew this would bloody happen” as he made his way past Harry. Refusing to acknowledge his reignited obsession, he’d avoided mentioning anything related to the blond git around Ron.

At first he’d kept telling himself that his concern came from the place of a landlord simply curious to his inhabitants whereabouts. Surely other people in his situation would also devour every scrape of news containing to the person currently occupying his space. This was completely natural and if taking his cock in hand while showering and picturing a grey eyed gaze was at all strange; he’d willingly ignored it.

It’d been exactly 16 days since he’d last saw Malfoy. The flicker of light caught his eye the minute he’d apparated back from Diagon Alley. He knew he’d eventually see him again. He’d spent the past two week sulking and he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to quell his curiosity; no matter how apprehensive he was feeling. His Gryffindor courage was the only thing keeping him from fleeing to his flat as he knocked lightly on the door before going in.

Malfoy was standing over a cauldron, he may have been doing something else but Harry couldn’t focus on anything other than the man’s battered appearance. His pale hair fell limply around his face as though attempting to conceal the deep purple bags that’d gathered under his eyes. If he noticed Harry’s presence, he didn’t let on. The man’s cheekbones seemed more pronounced than they had been. Harry couldn’t help the lump catching in his throat looking upon the man in front of him. The urge to take him in to his arm momentarily overwhelmed him as the door closed a bit too loudly behind, starling Malfoy. Their eyes met briefly and he could almost see the sorrow hidden in the steel depths before the cool mask of indifference slipped back in place. Unsure what to say, Harry cleared his throat.

“Um, I just wanted to say thanks for coming out for a pint with me.” He said, self consciously running a hand through his hair. Malfoy gave a noncommittal shrug and a “mm."

"I'd wanted to say that sooner but I hadn't seen you." he said, Malfoy offered nothing in return as he grabbed a small, blue vile next the cauldron. He emptied the contents in to the pewter pot causing a flash of bright light leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. The light left a breathless Harry seeing stars. He looked at Malfoy, watching as the corners of his mouth twitched up. His long fingers curled around the quill once more as he scribbled on the parchment by the cauldron.

A small “wow’ escaped his mouth before he could think better of it. Malfoy’s head snapped up, his eyes seeming to assess the man in front of him. A moment passed by in what felt like hours before Malfoy looked back down. “What is that?” Harry asked cautiously

“A variation of the Dreamless Sleep potion.” Malfoy said, his eyes focused on the parchment in front of him. The silence stretched between them, cackling like the licking tails of a fire. Harry knew he’d never be privy to any information if he pressed, so with a sigh he turned back towards the door. “Right. Well.” he said licking his lips. He couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d seen the man which caused a stir of arousal to take root. Seeing this as the best possible reason to not stay any longer, he grabbed the knob and opened the door, throwing a “See ya, Malfoy” without turning around.

“Potter.”

Harry swiftly turned to see Malfoy intensely gazing at him. A brief flicker of emotion passing across his schooled expression. Warmth spread from Harry's neck to his cheeks under the scrutiny of the other man. He hoped Malfoy didn't notice the pure want on his face. Years passed between them, the bitterness of their past intermingling with the tentative truce of their future. 

“I… Thank you” He didn’t wait for Harry to respond to drop his head back to his work. Harry stood looking at him for another moment before registered that he’d now been properly dismissed. He still didn’t know if Malfoy remembered what had happened, he didn't even know what exactly he was even being thanked for, he just knew the coils of desire within had been stoked. Feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks, he made the trek upstairs to his flat.

He tried to follow Ron’s story of the kid who’d snuck a Canary Cream in his mouth behind his mum’s back while they ate dinner. He registered that the mother went barmy while George explained that her son’s affliction was temporary and would hardly require an aviary. He hoped he’d reacted in the right places without letting on that he'd left something, he wasn't sure what exactly, downstairs with his former rival. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry**

“HERMIONE!” was all Harry heard before throwing a pillow over his head again. Ron got a bit enthusiastic about Floo calls from Hermione and they insisted on scheduling them before the sun could properly shine. With the pillow muffling the sound, he slowly drifted back off to sleep. It seemed like only seconds later when both the pillow and blanket were ripped off him. Harry reached for his glasses as the blurry blob in front of him threw open the curtains in his room; the bright light making him wince. With his glasses on, he took in the bushy haired woman turning around with a smile on her face.

“ ’MIONE!? What are you doing back so soon? We thought you were going to be gone forever!” Harry said as she barreled on to the bed with all the grace of a three legged erumpent. He noticed Ron standing in the doorway with his hands wrapped around a mug. He hadn’t seen him look so happy since Hermione left. She propped herself up next to him on the headboard and patted in front of her signaling that Ron should come sit. With Ron settled at the foot of the bed, they waited for Hermione to give an explanation for her early arrival. She just sat staring at them for while longer before Ron finally stepped in.

“Hermione?” Ron said tentatively. She smile at them both, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to be back.” She said, her voice cracking at the end. Harry felt himself getting choked up. He reached over and put his arm around her shoulders. “Australia was brilliant. It really was. Their centaur initiative is making waves and they think the policy will be adapted in England next.” Harry couldn’t keep the amused smirk off his face as Hermione recounted her time away. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed them all being together. They all avoided the Hippogriff in the room concerning her parents. No one knew what to say. How can you make something like that better?

“Anyway, the EAMB decided to take me on full time at their London office so I’m officially back for good!” Hermione practically squeal. Both Ron and him jumped to hug her all at once. Harry wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way but he knew it was the most content he’d felt in a really long time. Before long Hermione and Ron went out to do whatever it is they do leaving him to tend to the shop today.

George was nowhere to be seen when he arrived. He just shrugged, figuring he’d be in later, and clocked in before opening up for the day. Diagon Alley was rather quiet for a Friday morning. Normally, the chatter from the crowd of people heading to work would fill his ears but it seemed to be subdued. The morning passed by at a snail’s pace. The monotonous hours only interrupted once when a father came in to find his son a last minute birthday gift. He looked up at the clock with its hands resting on noon with a sigh. George never showed. It must have been one of those days. George did a great job of convincing everyone that he was okay most of the time. He’d duck out when he thought he couldn’t cover his pain well enough. No one could blame him. Fred’s death was devastating to them all. He could only imagine what George must feel everyday.

He put up the ‘CLOSED’ sign and made his way to the new café a few doors down. They had the best lemon biscotti he’d every tasted. With his mind firmly on food, he didn’t notice the couple coming the opposite way until they’d all successfully ended up on their ass. He launched himself up, an apology on his lips, when he looked down in to the crystal blue eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

He swallowed before croaking “I am so sorry,” offering his hand, which she dramatically refused with a sneer marring her otherwise pleasant features. He looked over to see the current star of his more imaginative fantasies reaching down to help her up. She grunted getting back on her feet. She glanced at Harry before looking forward and holding her arm out for Malfoy to presumably take. “Lets not let our day be ruined by the uncivilized creations.” She spat to Malfoy as he looked over at Harry. His heart jumped up to his throat as he took in the man before him. Malfoy was in a set of grey robes that were clearly cut to make Harry swoon. His hair was slicked back in a way that was reminiscent of their Hogwarts days. Malfoy’s face was a blank slate but he was sure he saw something more in those eyes. A huffy Daphne Greengrass clearing her throat broke the moment with a stilted “Lets go, Draco.” Malfoy took her arm with nothing more than a curt nod to him before whisking her away. Harry stood there and watched, as they walked down the alley. Malfoy didn’t turn back to look at him once. There was tightness in his chest that he couldn’t stomach. Jealousy grabbed at him from the depths of his soul. Appetite thoroughly ruined, he turned and headed back to the shop.

The door was unlocked upon his return. Although he only spent 3 months as an Auror trainee, his instincts kicked in. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and entered with caution. He peered around each shelf until he reached the front register. There was groaning coming from the back room. Harry took a deep breath before shoving open the door. The sight that greeted him was not one he’d ever thought he’d see. His wand hand fell to side as he took in the scene in front of him.

George had come to work and appeared to be coming elsewhere as well. Harry’s feet felt stuck to the ground as he watched George rail in to a blonde man. George had him bent over the worktable and was whispering words of encouragement not so quietly in the man’s ear. Hoping George hadn’t noticed, he inched his way back out making sure the door closed silently. He leaned back on the door and adjusted the hardness in his pants. Through his labored breathing he was trying to measure up the George he knew with the George he just saw fucking another man. George was fucking another man. A MAN. And since when was George gay? Wasn’t he just seeing Angelina Johnson? Harry’s mind was so occupied he hadn’t even noticed that Ron and Hermione had come in to the store.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, mate,” Ron offered with a smile, successfully drawing Harry from his thoughts. He just took a deep breath and started laughing. Ron hopped up on the counter and started chuckling along with him. Hermione joined in and before long they were all howling. “What’s so funny, you lot?” came from an amused voice behind him. He turned around to find a smirking George. The cheeky bastard crossed his arms over his chest and winked at him. Before Harry could even begin to respond to that, George had already moved over to talk to Hermione and Ron. Fucking George and his bloody midday shag.

The next few weeks followed in much of the same fashion. Harry started avoiding the downstairs again. The pain from their shared encounter in Diagon Alley had carried over. He had no claim on the stupid git and yet his felt thoroughly broken. He’d taken to apparating to and from their flat. He’d work at the shop, come home, eat, sleep, and repeat. He could hardly carry a conversation with George. He could barely look the bloody slag in the eye much less talk to him. He was positive George knew he’d seen him and that’s why he wouldn’t just let well enough alone. It was on one of Harry’s more depressed days that George corned him.

“What’s up, mate? I haven’t seen you so poorly since ole Voldy was around.” George was eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn’t sure what is was but that’s all it took for him to break.

“George? Are you, um, I mean.. you know..” he said trailing off at the end. Harry nervously looked towards the ground, his shoes becoming increasingly interesting. When he chanced a glace back up the bastard just smirked at him and planted the smuggest expression he’d ever seen on his freckly face. “Gay is the word you’re searching for my dear, naive friend and no, I’m not. A man as good looking at myself could hardly be so stingy.”

Harry took a moment to process that. He’d known people like this existed but he’d never met anyone who’d openly proclaimed it. Were a lot of people he knew so brazen? Maybe he wasn't as alone in this as he thought he was. “So, you’re in to both? Both genders, I mean.” George chuckled, “I am in to anyone who can appreciate a good looking bloke when they see one.” He paused there almost appraising Harry. His eyes swept up and down the length of Harry’s body making him feel completely starkers. He watched George make his way over. Harry felt his breath hitch as George leaned in close enough so he could feel his hot breath ghost his lip. His voice lowered, “And you, Harry? Are you a bit stingy?” Up until this exact moment Harry had never, not even once, considered George Weasley as anything other than his best friend’s brother; an extension of his own family really.

He’d never thought about shoving George against the wall and taking him in to his mouth but apparently feeling himself so close to the man was all it took. He grabbed hold of George’s dark blue jumper and turned them around, shoving George against the nearest surface. Harry pressed his lips hard against George’s and the rest of the world faded away. All he knew in that moment was that he’d never been harder in his life. He felt George grind his hips against his own. His hardness met with an answering hardness; the jolts of pleasure increasing with each thrust. George moaned in to his mouth as he snaked a hand in to Harry’s trousers. The fingers wound themselves around his cock and Harry whimpered. George licked his way down Harry’s neck stopping to suck at the base causing Harry to buck in his hand. He moved his own hand over to George’s cock, reveling in the way it felt strange yet so familiar. He brushed his thumb over the tip loving the way George arched in to him. They stayed like that, panting against each other until George stilled and Harry felt the warm stream of liquid flow over his hand. Harry followed suit almost immediately. George grabbed his wand from his back pocket and muttered a cleaning charm.

He felt guilt blooming within him like he’d just stepped out on Malfoy somehow which was utterly ridiculous. He didn’t even know if Malfoy liked men not that it mattered since he was engaged to someone who was most definitely not Harry. This had to stop. He resolved to keep Malfoy in his life as a friend, just a friend, and that's it. He couldn't spend every day pining over someone who could never be his.

George smiled at him instantly easing the tension, “I guess that answers that question.” He winked, patted Harry on his shoulder before heading back out to the storefront throwing a “Let’s do it again sometime” over his shoulder. Harry sat on the couch in the back room and laughed to himself. There was no more denying that he was gay. Things with Ginny had never been like that. The hard part was finally coming clean to his best friends. He reckoned he could leave out the part about how George had helped him figure it out.

George hollering for him interrupted his thoughts. He headed out front only to come face to face with Malfoy. The resolve he'd just spend the past 15 minutes building up crumbled to dust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for another short chapter and for posting them so sporadically. I know the story has been heavily Harry so far. You're going to be seeing a whole lot of our favorite Slytherin in the next few chapters including how he's dealing with his past. The plot is fleshing itself out and it's far more in depth than I originally planned for it to be. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic that I've written in years.  
> It is actually the first ever fic I've shared with the world.  
> I haven't had it looked over so please excuse the mistakes that I've probably made. 
> 
> Please be aware that this story is NOT completely canon compliant.  
> Dumbledore and Snape are still very much alive in this fic.  
> Snape being a good guy from the get go.  
> They won't play major roles but I feel like it's important to know!


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